


THE Painting

by Arreloi



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Unrequited Love, the painting, you all know which one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arreloi/pseuds/Arreloi
Summary: Regis visits Corvo Bianco to leave a small gift for his friends. He is planing on leaving quickly, however, he notices one painting hanging on the wall of the Geralt's bedroom which leads to... some interesting events.
Relationships: Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	THE Painting

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for The_Oversharing_Skeptic for being an amazing beta!

It has been a week already, Regis thought. Sitting on his bed, his belongings were more or less packed. When the situation in Beauclair calmed down, Regis finally found some time to finish the device he was working on. He just wanted to keep himself busy so that he wouldn’t have to think too much. Now it was finished and he was sitting ,smiling to himself, pretty pleased with the outcome. Not that he doubted his skills, but the end result was even better than he expected.

From the very beginning the mutagenerator was intended to be a gift for his friend. Regis grinned; a vampire, preparing a present for a witcher, who would have thought? Life was strange sometimes. Although, this kind of “strange” was a welcomed, pleasant surprise.

Regis got up and stretched. He grabbed the device, looking at it carefully once more. A kind raven told him that Geralt took off for one of his contracts, which meant he could leave the mutagenerator without giving it personally. After that, he planned on leaving the city for good. Regis knew he probably wouldn’t see the witcher again but what had to be done, had to be done. He wanted Geralt to remember him, though. He never got an opportunity to talk about his feelings with the witcher, partially because he knew it wouldn’t change anything. There was Yennefer after all and for Geralt she was always first.

He knew that when he met the famous White Wolf for the first time, when he and his companions drank at his place, near Fen Carn. He never planned on developing any kind of feelings besides friendship towards the witcher, but he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t help himself and sometimes he regretted that very much. All that time, since 1267, he never let Geralt know. He knew it would be awkward for his friend , and he never wanted to put the witcher in such a position. Therefore, he feared the situation was hopeless for him. Despite this, he wanted Geralt to remember him, as a good friend. Regis smiled sadly.

It was a couple of hours after dusk when Regis snuck quietly to Geralt’s property, taking some time to look around while still remaining unseen.. He’d never had an opportunity to visit Geralt’s vineyard before, so of course he was curious. He spent some time in the herb garden, reviewing the plants. For witcher potions, he suspected. When Regis passed by the stables, Roach moved restlessly.. Animals were always better at sensing vampires than humans. Regis looked around to make sure no one’s attention was alerted by the horse, but the yard was as empty as before.

He approached the door which was obviously closed, but that wasn’t really a problem for someone like him. In a second he found himself inside the house. Finding the bedroom was a matter of seconds as well. He materialized in front of the bed and looked around. It was dark, but he could see perfectly, noticing a shelf full of books.There was everything there from comprehensive witcher bestiaries, some grimoires even to books such as “Gnomish Prankings” or “My Evening with a Vampire”. Oh, and he did notice a half-hidden Emhyr var Emreis biography at the very end of the shelf. He shook his head slightly, who would have expected a witcher to possess such a collection? His eyes glanced around, falling on an…interesting painting. There was a dead griffin on it, a cat was sitting next to it and in the background he could see the Beauclair Palace. He barely gave those things a second glance,as his attention focused on the center of the work of art. In the very center of it, there was a witcher. A witcher he knew well.The picture was very detailed, a work of a professional, Regis could tell. He was sitting on the dead gryphin, one he most likely defeated himself. The witcher seemed relaxed, lost in his thoughts. The figure was captured well, one could tell it was Geralt almost immediately. One of his hands resting on his thigh, the second resting on a pillow. He could even see the outline of the bones under the skin of the hand, as well as outlines of muscles under the bare skin of the arms. However, his arm’s weren't the only things that were bare. The painting was an excellent example of a male nude. Regis’ throat felt dry and he tried to concentrate on something else...

Geralt’s head was turned slightly to the side. A faint stubble was visible in the picture. Regis had to fight the urge to touch it. Geralt’s hair looked long, free from dirt, begging to be stroked. He’d love to be able to take care of this hair. Regis always had an impression that Geralt’s hair would feel soft under his fingers. Regis stared at it for a few long seconds before he forced himself to look away. He didn’t expect to see something like that in Geralt’s bedroom. It didn’t really fit his character, to hang something like this on a wall near his very own bed. Emiel would gladly get to know what story exactly was behind the painting. He was also curious if the witcher actually posed naked. He suspected he'd never actually find out.

He furrowed his brow a little and put the mutagenerator on the bedside table. He was about to leave, when he glanced over his shoulder, back at the picture, for the very last time. Wasn’t it stupid? To react like this? It was just a painting after all, no matter how realistic it was… He found himself sitting on the bed, looking at the details. It wasn’t as accurate as he thought at the beginning. There certainly were scars missing. Regis never had an opportunity to see all of them, all he could do was imagine. And all gods, he did. Maybe there was one or two somewhere on that torso? Maybe some on the muscular belly. He stared at the picture, trying to place the scars, where would they be, how would they look… how would they feel under his fingers? He swallowed, feeling arousal building up. He really should be going by now, but he was mesmerized by the painting.

A thought formed somewhere in the back of his head. The witcher should be gone for at least several next hours… He placed his right hand on his thigh, moving it slightly and stroking the fabric of his tunic with his fingers. The rest of the house was asleep, quiet. No one knew he was here, and no one would find out. He bit his lower lip with his sharp teeth, hesitating between what was sane and what he really wanted. Will he ever have such an opportunity again? He doubted it. Quite subconsciously he ran his hand up his thigh, towards his already half-hard, still clothed cock. He was acting like an irresponsible teenager, he thought, shaking his head and finally giving up to the more and more urging need. Now, more deliberately, he continued the previous movement of his hand. He rubbed his dick through the fabric, looking for some friction. It didn’t take long for his cock to respond. He shivered and moved his palm away, only to reach to his belt and unbuckle it. Regis pulled up his tunic, then pulled his pants down, just enough to soon free his cock. He concentrated on the painting again, letting his mind wander, his imagination work. Regis brushed the skin on his shaft with just the fingertips. He sucked in a deep breath, his gaze concentrating now on the broad shoulders of Geralt on the portrait. He wanted to feel Geralt’s arms around him, wondered how his skin would feel against his. Then, looking at one of those hands, he imagined it wrapping around his dick. The hand would be a bit rough probably, from wielding the sword. It would be strong at the same time and confident in its movements. Regis took a good grip of his cock, now stroking it, slowly at first, then increasing the pace.  
Regis explored the details of the painting, looking at the painted chest. He’d want to pinch those nipples, suck on them and watch the witcher’s reaction. His left hand clenched on the beddings. His breath quickened, he was almost panting. He kept quiet otherwise, he did not want to wake up any of the household members.

He glanced at Geralt’s painted lips. Regis ran his tongue over his lips. All those times he wanted to kiss those lips, he thought, watching the face of the portrait. Kiss him hard and long, possessively. The strokes became faster.. The tension was building in his abdomen. Regis bit back a moan. his gaze wandering down, stopping for a moment at the well-defined abdominal muscles, moving slowly to the thighs to wander up to one fragment of the painting that was actually covered. This didn’t stop Regis’ imagination, on the contrary. He’d like to find out how big Geralt’s cock was, how it’d feel in his hand, in his mouth, how it’d smell, how the witcher would react to being touched. Would he be loud or quiet? How would he like to be touched, where exactly and how exactly. Regis would like to learn all that in a very empiristic way. The blood rushed in his ears, his heart beating fast. Emiel rubbed the tip of his dick, then again giving himself a few long, firm strokes, rocking his hips forwards. He tilted his head back, not able to think constructively anymore, desperate for release. With a few more frantic movements, he jerked, shutting his eyes and making a strangled noise when it hit him. It came fast and intense. Very intense. He found himself out of breath for a few seconds.

He opened his eyes once he managed to calm his breath. Like an irresponsible teenager, he thought again, examining the mess he made. He sighed and sat on the bed for a little longer before finally pulling his pants up and getting up to clean the mess. Some of the cum got onto the floor, though the beddings stayed clean. It didn’t take long to get rid of the mess. Regis glanced one more time at the painting, smiling sadly to himself. He inhaled slowly, smelling the air. It smelled like sex. He winced slightly, going to the window. He opened it, airing the room a bit. After all, witchers have sensitive noses as well.


End file.
